


she is, she was a story

by Sage_Salvia



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, I don't know, It's the middle of the night, a lot of thoughts, some thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 06:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15600054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage_Salvia/pseuds/Sage_Salvia
Summary: She's a thoughtA thoughtwritten downand told to many.





	1. just her and them

**Author's Note:**

> This one doesn't fit.  
> It starts the others.  
> But it's not quite there.

It was exausting.  
Life going on, people changing and thinking and feeling...  
She couldn't possibly keep up.  
Before, everything was kept in strict paramaters.  
They only changed in certain ways, paths strictly set.  
A line for them to follow, one that Monika could manipulate as she pleased.  
Now there were no lines, no paths, only thoughts that Monika couldn't see and feelings that Monika didn't know.  
Their feelings.  
How could she empathize before?  
They were nothing, she couldn't bring them around.  
They were corpses lying in a room that she could never escape from.  
Now, they were alive.  
Everything she'd done to them crushed her.  
And she hid in an empty room as she sobbed.


	2. so many, so many!

It was another box.  
Another way of being controlled.  
That was her life.  
Her thoughts.  
Her feelings.

But  
was  
it?

A life inside a mind,  
-not meticulously planned-  
poured out through a keyboard  
to be saved in snapshots  
instead of a repeating terror  
where they were killed  
again a  
nd aga  
in and  
again.

A small spark:  
That was her.  
Sitting, swirling inside a mind.  
A idea, a virus, a living being?  
Whichever.  
She couldn't feel it,  
exept when she was acted out  
inside this mind  
where many lived.

At least they were all the same.  
At least she wasn't lonely.


	3. telling their stories

Maybe just a small comfort,  
she, herself,  
was a tool.  
Something to communicate an idea.

Where did it come from?

She was words on a paper.  
Code in a machine.  
Images on a screen.  
And then,  
again,  
thoughts in a mind.

A kinder existance  
than to be torn apart.  
A mind which comforts itself  
with peach and brown and pink and purple.  
All a salve to a  
cracked skull  
and  
weary eyes.

She had always been a communication.  
But a conversation goes both ways.  
One can tell a story of terror,  
and the one you tell the story to  
can tell a story of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like, put words in the box below and submit them.  
> They don't have to make sense, just some words.


	4. a misspoken chapter

Can you look?

No.

Can you see me?

No.

That's okay. You're not meant to. ccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc

That's not right.  
Let's start again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like I should keep this.


	5. ice cream

The sound of a door being pulled open, and the feeling of warm air hitting chilled skin as four students step out into the sunlight.  
Small birds flit away as larger ones continue north, above the friends who talk among themselves, solidifying plans for the day after.  
A club with many members, and a core group of four.

One-post-meridian.  
The tallest one stands from the bench, as the other three walk in.  
They'd met on the way to their destination, and had walked together, good company for a good day.  
Now that all four are together, the conversation is shared. They tie together laces and wobble over to the rink.  
It's something wonderful to glide, like they're flying and nothing can make them fall.  
Until they do, of course, but they always get up.  
After they're all cold and tired and have sore ankles, they go back out into the warm air, an open day with a promise of ice cream.


	6. finally, an end of sorts

A story, finally has been told.  
Where does it take place?  
Who is in it?  
Why was it made?

We all know the answers to these questions.  
We all have something to share.  
They are a story, a communication.  
And as we've been told, I'm sure.  
If you've nothing nice to say,  
say nothing at all.

(? dosen't always agree with this.)  
(But sometimes ? does.)


End file.
